Every Heart a Doorway

So after I did a poem on 'Tonight the Streets are Ours', I got hung up with this idea of doing poems/prose on book titles. Because honestly, there are so many books out there with such beautiful, beautiful titles that one can't gorge enough on them. But, each time, I make sure I haven't read... Continue Reading →

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Tonight the Streets are Ours It's the title of the book by Leila Sales, and no this isn't a review of the book. I haven't even read the book, yet, but I plan on doing so soon. However, that's not the point. The point is the title. The first time I read it, I fell... Continue Reading →

Myrtle Cay – Maybe (part 6)

Francis I fear pauses, stops, discontinuance, freezes, standstill. I don't fear hurdles, I fear halts. I fear those periods of grim blankness that tend to seep in the interim between two phases or activities. I like it when things are on the move. They may move up, they may move down, forward or backward, as... Continue Reading →

Myrtle Cay – Maybe (part5)

Aria and Kenna Each morning I wake up with her on my mind and pain in my heart. At three, in the morning, we were still on the phone. There was an emptiness inside me, and a sharp knife that jabbed the second I moved. Our laugh echoed across the streets, heads turning to look... Continue Reading →

Myrtle Cay – Maybe (part 4)

Kenna The marks are still there, dull, lighter but fully present - white and red, scratchy, and old. They are horrible- no, they are hideous, so hideous that I still can't bear to fully look at them for long without my eyes burning with tears that threaten to spill. But I don't, I swallow them... Continue Reading →

Myrtle Cay – Maybe (part 3)

Aria I can still feel the heat on myself, tingling my toes first, then crawling up my legs, my arms, coming up to my face. It almost killed me. Almost. My smile was bright, brighter than it had been in a long while. But a lot of things were very bright that day, brighter than they... Continue Reading →

Myrtle Cay – Maybe (part 2)

Aria "I can make you very, very happy, young lady." His lips were stretched in a lopsided, cocky smile, showing the barest hint of a set of perfectly white teeth. His dark hair was tousled and yet perfectly set, in that amazing casual fashion that I almost never understood, the formal fashion that intrigued me.... Continue Reading →

Falling Angels

There are cages, made with fire, Cages that suffocate, choke with ashes, Cages that aren't meant to be rattled, That are meant to remain untouched, Large distances between the caged and the bars. And then there are those who bridge the gaps, There are those who play with fire, They tease it, they taunt it, they make advances, They challenge it, charting their own paths. But cages of fire can't be rattled without leaving scars, The players don't leave unscathed, Some times its a stinging burn, Other times, all that's left is raw skin. But when angels play with fire, Its a transformation, like magic.

Myrtle Cay – Maybe (part 1)

Francis The darkness surrounding me is cold, cold and damp. My hands are sweaty, my palms clammy as I hold on - hold on for dear life. The earth underneath my fingers is hard, hard and scratchy and there is something sharp embedded deep into it and it cuts my hands, spilling blood. I can’t... Continue Reading →

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